


When Queens are Warriors and Kings are Soft-Hearted

by ClockWorkSymmetry



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4668131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockWorkSymmetry/pseuds/ClockWorkSymmetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warden Commander Cousland believes her duty always comes first. It came before her impeding marriage to whoever her mother deigned her off to, before her revenge for the death of her family, before her own happiness.</p>
<p>As such, she married Alistair for the good of Ferelden- as was her duty. <br/>It is also her duty to have his child.</p>
<p>Leave her feelings for Leliana aside, and Alistairs happiness out of the equation.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Set between DAO and Awakening, then continuing onto the events of DA2. While not always cohesively cannon, it will adhere to most story line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Can’t sleep?” 

She turned back to look at him, watching him walk slowly over to the railing, standing next to her, his shoulders not as heavy as they had been earlier, when still in court. Her king. Her husband. She slowly shook her head, looking over at the gardens again, absently watching the vegetable garden as the moon glazed green and orange into silver dappled browns and purples. “No. It’s…been a long night.”

It had been. A rather long night. Their copulation had been tender, fond, but one without the emotion expected from a married couple. She was fond of Alistair. Fond. She loved him, in her own way, but he wasn’t Leliana.

Leliana…

“Teagan will be over in the morning. He and Caitlyn are expecting, and want to plan for…heirdom.” “I thought you came here to comfort me.” “You’ve asked me to stop doing that.” She nodded. She had. Alistair had changed, become a harder man in their year of marriage. Loveless marriage did that to a man. Still, they tried for a child, though there weren’t any returns on the effort. Cousland rubbed her arms, the thin robe chafing slightly as a breeze blew past. Alistair hesitantly put an arm around her, but she looked away. She didn’t know what to say. He obviously didn’t either, as he continued looking ahead, rubbing her shoulder for warmth.

“I…things…” She sighed, and he looked at her. “What’s wrong?” “Alistair, things would be easier if I loved you. If you loved me. We both know that. And I’m sorry. I do care for you.” He smiled weakly, looking over the garden again. “I care for you too. I’m happy to have you as my wife. Sometimes though, I wish you had let me be single. I know you wanted to make sure Ferelden would be safe. But you could have been a good supervisor. Instead, I married my best friend, and made the relationship weird.” She laughs weakly, rubbing back her unruly hair as she leans against him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You are very welcome to join Leliana and I-“ “I could never do that.” The finality in his voice made her wince as she looked away. He loved her.

He knew she knew, but pretended not to. She let go of him, gripping the railing. “…How is…Amaranthine? It’s only been a year. Things are slowly being sorted in the bannorn. I should…I should take up Warden Commander. I need to sort things out.” He slowly pulled away, turning. The conversation more frequently breached had been brought to a close. “Fine.” His tone made her look down at her hands. Unpretty things, with bitten short nails, scars and calluses. Not the hands of a queen. Not the hands of Anora.  
Anora, whom she had had killed as soon as Alistair was made king.

“I’ll make preparations as soon as possible.” His voice was short. Harsh. Hurt. She turned, and before he could hurry inside, she wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her face into his back. “Let me do it…Ali?” The nickname brought back unkind memories. Memories of him watching her across the campfire, watching her eyes laugh at something he had said, watching how she threw back her head, shoulders shaking with abandon, watching her watching Leliana sing, her eyes wide and innocent, her hands open, his hands holding a rose, touching each thorn, trying to find the right moment to give it to her. 

Never finding that moment.

“D-Don’t…” Don’t call him that. Don’t hold him like that. Don’t act like you care, it just makes things more confusing. “…fret. I’ll let you handle it, I’m only good at floral arrangement and cheese tasting after all.” A falsely jovial charade that she pretended to accept, letting go of him, and not forcing him to turn around. Pretending to not see the clench in his shoulders, in his jaw. The tell-tale quiver of his hands, his trying not to be upset. She played along, for his pride. “Oh, but you’re so very good at floral arrangement and cheese tasting!” He continued. “That’s why I’m king, aren’t I?”

He left her at the railing. She turned away.


	2. Chapter 2

Grinning Morrigan holding a demon baby with Leliana dancing in circles, shooting arrows after Marjolaine who continued giggling in dungeons flashed through her head. A yowling sound grew louder and louder, and Leliana was no longer singing that idyllically beautiful song while she fought but screaming instead, and they were sitting there, having tea, wearing Orlesian dresses, and clips on their noses because they were eating a dead Flemeth, and Cousland was very confused as Leliana screamed for more wine, and the scream was a yowl, and- and Cousland sat up, gasping wildly as she flailed blindly for her sword, hair mussed, and….

And Ser Pounce-a-Lot sat on her lap, yowling in her face cheerfully, whining for lutefisk. Cousland gasped, catching her breath, her chest heaving as she stared down at the cat. “…Agh! Sod off!” And with an incredibly unlady-like grunt, Cousland shoved the cat off herself and off the bed. Then, she sat up and rubbed her forehead, turning to the side, stretching, and heaving out a groan as she rubbed her head again, stumbling up, and pressing her head against the cool glass of the window, hugging herself as she pursed her lips, looking out over Vigil’s Keep. People working. People yelling. People hurrying about, seemingly highly irate. Then templars, then a couple dwarves. Soldiers.

She shook her head before pulling away from the window, and pulled off her nightgown and pulled on her wrappings, before pausing in front of her looking glass. She stared at her reflection, wrappings half on, half-off, leaving most of her chest bare. She looked. Really looked. And…felt nothing. Once smooth, delicate flesh, hiding toned muscle that had been the envy of the men she had fought alongside, craved by those she lay with, longing to touch and taste…it wasn’t there. Muscle turned wiry, scars lining skin, burns and cuts, and bites, and…her skin was marred. Leliana had never seemed to mind. Alistair seemed to enjoy it, actually, kissing scars, tasting burns, until she had told him off, and said they weren’t making love. They were having intercourse. The clinical word took away the lust of ‘fucking’; the passion of ‘making love’; the awkward endearment of ‘sex’. Cousland simply stared at her body, watching what should be clean, whole and at its prime show the early waste of warfare. She turned, dropping her wrappings as she stepped into the side chamber, where there was a sluice, a bucket, and hot water, some herbs pressed together with lye as a sad attempt at making a non-caustic soap for a queen, though they were still in a barracks, and it still was a preparation for a siege. She plugged the sluice, and filled the dip with hot water, before slowly soaking in, and sighed softly, running hot water over aching muscle, letting drips roll down her flesh. 

Focusing on that rather than the dream she had had earlier. Alistair and Leliana. Why did things have to be so very difficult? A knock on the door, and Cousland didn’t look up as she heard the not-there steps, smelling Andraste’s Grace, and tasted the sweet flower falling in with the sudden breeze. She didn’t look to her red-headed lover, though Leliana paused to take in the queen, curled up in the shallow bath, peering at her arms, as if something was wrong with them. “Is something the matter, my queen?”

She turned then, slowly looking up at Leliana. She wore simple gear- a long skirt and a blouse, already having lost her shoes in the bedroom. She looked away, away from Leliana, away from her own naked form. “My queen, why have you not come down for breakfast? Are you unwell?” Cousland remained quiet. Leliana pondered for a moment before she stripped, then slowly eased into the tub next to her.

She slowly curled herself onto Cousland’s lap, straddling her as she looked down at the taller woman, her hands, now wet, running slowly through dark, unruly curls. “…Olivia..?” Olivia looked up at Leliana, eyes traveling slowly over her chest, her slender shoulders, then to her sharp chin, accentuated by the rough cut of her hair, slicing over in a neat bob. Her fingers found their way down her slender frame, resting at her hips, before she leaned forward, pressing her face to Leliana’s breasts. “I wish…things were easier, Leliana. I wish emotion didn’t always have a part to play.” Then Leliana sighed, shaking her head as she held Olivia to her chest, running long fingers down a tense neck. “But they aren’t easier, Olivia. Emotion is painful, but it makes us human. We need pain. It makes us who we are. Without pain, you wouldn’t be who you are. Without pain, I wouldn’t be who I am.” Olivia looked up at her, that sharp chin tucked down now, lips parted in a small smile. “Who are you, then, Leliana?” 

The red head laughed, leaning down to kiss Olivia’s eyelids. “Such talk while we are in a nice warm bath. I find myself quite in need of one, wouldn’t you say? Come, help me wash.” Olivia accepted the gentle chastening of the serious topic, and dabbed water from a cloth nearby down Leliana’s slender arms and shoulders, then down her waist, and on her stomach, trailing over soft curves, and hard scar at times. Leliana watched her, her eyes heavy. “You’re very contemplative this morning.” Olivia stopped her washing, and looked away, her eyes heavy, a scowl working on her features. Leliana only smiled as she gently pulled her chin towards her, leaning in to kiss the scowl, until it dissolved with the butterfly kisses left on her lips. Strong arms wrapped around a slender waist, until Olivia simply nestled into her lover, eyes shut as small kisses were peppered on her face. “I am worried.” “About?” Olivia let out a sigh, but it was for the sake of sighing, not so much out of irritation or frustration. It was hard to be irritated or frustrated with Leliana before her. “Alistair. Ferelden. Repercussions of Loghain and Anora. Teagan. Fergus. …Children.”

Leliana stiffened for a moment, looking down at Olivia before sighing slightly, her affections stopping as she simply gazed down at the brunette, and raised an eyebrow. “Well, let’s start with the simple things, yes? Fergus. What about him?” “He’s alone in Highever. He’s sad. He misses his family. And I can’t see him as often as I want.” “Doesn’t he have a duty to remarry?” “He can do whatever he wants, he has the king and queen in his pocket.” “Well, there’s not much you can do about it then, can you?” “I want him to be happy.” “You can’t force that on someone.” Olivia nodded soberly, then twined her fingers with Leliana’s, twisting skin to press the delicate back of her hand to her cheek, then sighed again, shaking her head. “I wish…I wish I could.” “We all wish a lot of things.” “How is that supposed to make me feel, Leliana? ‘We all wish for something, we all want something, we all don’t get. I’m the queen. I’ve worked, I’ve sacrificed, I’ve given up so, so much, why can’t I simply force my brother to be happy with his lot?” Leliana tucked damp strands of hair behind her ears. “Are you angry?” “I…no. No. …I don’t know.” “What do you want?” “I want to be with you. I want Alistair to be happy. I want Fergus to be happy. I want Ferelden to be safe. I want to give the throne the child it needs. I want Teagan to be satisfied with his lot. I want…I want a lot of things.” “And how do you suppose you’ll get them?” “I don’t think I will.” Leliana gently eased her hand from Olivia’s grip, then slowly shifted next to her, and splashed more water over herself, then looked up at the ceiling, sighing. “I’ve been asked to head a mission into the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Now that the dragon has been killed, brother Genitivi wants to go back to study the ruins, and examining the library there. I will be leaving soon.” Olivia’s gaze flickered over to Leliana for a moment then back down to her hands. “Will you return to Denerim to collect Genitivi?” “I hadn’t intended to.” Olivia was quiet. “Would you like me to?” Her chin jerked up as she looked at Leliana then her eyes softened as she took in Leliana’s gentle gaze, one hand moving to cup her face.

“Yes. And…can you go to….could you…” “Give Teagan a message? Or Alistair?” “Both.” Leliana smiled slightly, then leaned over to kiss her, hands drawing her to press against her. “Of course.” Olivia smiled in relief as she pulled Leliana back onto her lap, pressing a heady kiss to her neck, then pushing Leliana further into the bath, hearing the thick giggling of her lover as she plunged underwater, between spreading thighs.


	3. Chapter 3

‘To Warden-Commander Olivia Cousland-Theirin, Queen of Ferelden, Champion of Redcliffe, Hero of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Lady of Highever, Veteran of the Fifth Blight,

Olivia,

I am aware of the proceedings at Haven, but I am currently unable to assist at the moment, but I thank you for your concerns, and give regards to Teagan, Isolde and Eamon. I apologize for the abruptness of this message, but I am in need of leaving Denerim for the moment, as there have been issues, once again, in the bannorn.

As always  
Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden, Lord of Denerim, Champion of Redcliffe, etc…’

As transcribed by the royal court.

 

Olivia’s lips pursed as she looked at the neatly printed letter on her desk. Printed, not hand written. Alistair had terrible handwriting anyways. But the lack of affection, simple familiarity was all too obvious. Her thumb grazed over the signature above Alistair’s title, testing it. Her jaw set as she felt no indentation. That too had been a print.  
Had he even recited this letter?

No, the use of ‘once again’ was his little humorous quip. Wasn’t it? 

Well, he really shouldn’t have blocked printing on his signature. If that was stolen, anyone could simply steal off the royal seal and pretend to have authority from the king. If Olivia had been of a different mind, she would have scolded him, but, instead, she crumpled the letter into a ball, then tossed it into the fire, frightening Anders’ stupid cat, who yowled, then curled up on the carpet again.

Silly thing.

She sighed, slouched back in the chair for a moment, before getting to her feet, and stretching, shaking her head. So, Alistair was posturing about the bannorn because there were problems, or because he considered the issue there worse than Haven, because he thought Leliana could handle Haven, because he wanted to ignore Leliana- or Olivia, or simply because he didn’t worry about Haven. Or a combination of them all. 

Alistair wasn’t sly, or manipulative. But he had learned to be evasive. Olivia hoped this was one of those times, where he was being petty instead of not telling her of some bad thing happening. Maybe…maybe that was why it was printed? Ink could carry memories, according to magic, from its writer. It could be a form of protection- the circle was at the bannorn outskirts-

No. Wynne would have informed her. She was reading into it too much. Why did she feel the need to make excuses for him?  
She shook her head, shutting her eyes, the events of the week prior once again flashing before her eyes.

“This…isn’t working.” Olivia started, blinking up at Leliana, then sat up, regarding her naked lover. “What? Why?” “You love him.” Olivia sucked in a breath as she regarded Leliana. Her skin was flushed from love making, small bites and kisses flicked over her pale skin, her cheeks red, her eyes slightly swollen, but she was looking away, expression a mix of sulkiness and anger. “I do. But not in the way you think I do.” “Explain then.” “He’s my husband. He’s my friend. He’s always been there for me. I can’t not love him. But I’m not in love with him.” Leliana was silent for a long while, then- “I don’t believe you.” 

Olivia looked at her, then slowly shook her head, leaning in to cup her face, but the redhead turned away, pushing the seeking hand back. “Why don’t you? What has made you doubt me?” “You…you do things because they’re expected of you. And then when they aren’t expected of you, you do things in order to help what is expected of you. You married Alistair because you wanted Ferelden to be safe, not because you cared for him.” “I already told you that. I explained that to both of you, and you accepted it.” “You’re…you’re manipulative.” “No moreso than anyone else, Leliana.” “That doesn’t excuse-“ “No moreso than you, Leliana.” “I-“ “Why? Why now? You know I’m not in love with him, what is-“ “I don’t think you love me!”

Olivia stared, her head reeling before she sat back on her knees, too shocked to speak. Leliana looked away, her face even more red now. She was crying. “And I think that everything you’ve done, every word, every whisper, every kiss, is because you want something from me! Some way to protect Ferelden or something!” “Le-Leliana…what could I get from you, answer that, if you’re going to use that tactic of logic.” “I’m a hand of the Divine, I’m a Bard of the Game in Orlais!” “I’ve never brought up anything to do with your role in the Chantry, and the most we speak about Orlais and the Game is when next are we ordering you new shoes!” Leliana grew quiet, sullen, and Olivia sighed, leaning in, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman. Her own eyes prickling with tears as Leliana began crying into her bare shoulder. 

“I love you, Olivia. I’m so scared of losing you. I’m so scared of you becoming Marjolaine.” “I would never-“ “Don’t. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You convinced me to stop lying to myself, using the Chantry to defend my actions, pretending I didn’t enjoy it. I do. I know I do. And you do too. But there is a line we draw.” “Leliana-“ “No-“ “Listen to me.”  
Leliana looked teary-eyed up at Olivia. “If you are going to use convoluted logic as your argument, hear this- Ferelden has enough political subterfuge of the obvious sort to deal with things happening in twenty years time. The Game is not to be played right now. I am not a true political figurehead as I represent the Wardens, and that ties me down to remaining out of politics. Alistair has revoked that status, so he is most influential- and before you say that is more reason for me to have ties to people like you to do my dirty work, you know very well that I don’t trust people to do what needs to be done, because I can’t leave my eggs in one basket. And as a Warden, that’s what I would have to do. I haven’t mentioned anything about the Game to you, and you would be the only basket I’d have, because you haven’t seen any other Bards skulking around, now have you?”  
Olivia sighed, then kissed Leliana’s forehead. “In a less odd logic argument- I love you. I’ve never told Alistair that. You know I love you. You know it, Leliana. You know I do. Stop running scared.”

And after Leliana threw herself into Olivia’s arms again, proceeding to round two, Olivia could only wonder who she was trying to convince.

 

Olivia scowled, shaking the thoughts from her mind, then grabbed a piece of paper, and hastily scribbled on it, just a mention that she was heading to the battlements, and she headed outside, climbing the ladders, then sat on one of the balustrades of the keep, her legs swinging as she stared up at the sunset. Her hair, normally up in a severe bun, now hung loose and curly, rather wild, while she wore a leather jerkin and woollen breeches. No-one would recognize her from a distance.  
She stared down at the ant-sized people below her, and then looked back up at the sunset.

She needed…to do something. The Architect lived, the Mother dead. Vigil’s Keep was repairing, and Amaranthine was strong. She didn’t have reason to stay for much longer. And she did not wish to return to Denerim, though she had no feasible reason to go to Haven with Leliana. The people would not like that.  
That cat was back again, climbing into her lap, and she stroked it absently, wondering where Anders had gone.  
Wondering where she should go.

“Well, Ser Pounce-a-Lot, I need to clear my head. You know what’s best to do that? Distracting me with superiority complexes. I think I should go find Morrigan. She’s good at annoying other issues out of my head. And…maybe she could help.”  
The cat meowed plaintively and Olivia rolled her eyes, questioning her sanity before petting the cat. Morrigan would help. If nothing, she’d help by providing a distraction.


	4. Chapter 4

The amount of expletives that left Olivia’s mouth made Triton whine as he buried his head into her bags, pawing for a health poultice. Olivia could only cringe as she held back tears that came more from anguish and frustration than pain as she looked at her foot, hating herself for being stupid. Yes. A sprained ankle, out in the middle of nowhere, having sent the Dalish woman and the mage away so she could talk to Morrigan. She had been foolish. Been clumsy. Of all the stupid things to do, she had been frustrated, slipped, fell, and injured herself. What would be sorted in two days at the castle could take weeks to heal here. Weeks without cover, food, water, and a message for help, or weeks with, but no message to help, depending on whether she sent Triton or not.

And having to depend on a mabari, running to the nearest location with a note that could get lost, stolen, damaged, or…if Triton was hurt, or killed. The two she had sent away would be long gone, the mage having whined about going into the woods with the woman, and they probably wouldn’t…want to be disturbed. Olivia was too proud to curtail to them. Too proud meant dead in most instances though.

She sighed, glaring at her ankle, and spat again. “Sodding nug-humper, bleeding me to the-“ Triton whimpered, and she sighed, shaking her head. “Sorry, boy.” She took the offered potion, swallowed, and leaned back against the rocks, considering what Morrigan had said, as she adjusted her foot back and forth, wincing slightly at times. These mirrors could be an issue, in the future. The Dalish girl said she knew of a clan that moved up north to the Free Marches, who had lost one of their own to the mirror. Everything was wrong with the world of late, even cosmetically inclined décor.

A scowl, and Olivia got to her feet, wincing, and let out a pained whimper as she slumped against the cave wall, looking at her tender foot. Bruising about the ankle, heavy and harsh. She swallowed. This journey would be hard. 

Turning to Triton, she carefully knelt down, watching for her foot as she put her pack down, pulling out some bandages, and an injury kit. “Triton, I want you to go find me a stick for a crutch. Nice and thick, about up to just above my waist please, a little longer is fine, but not shorter. Please don’t take long, and rather be safe than get it, okay?” The smart dog barked then ran off after licking her hand in comfort. She sighed, then stretched out her foot, and began rubbing in a salve, then bandaging, and curled her toes slightly, before putting on a light leather shoe. She swapped her heavy boot on her other foot for matching shoes, glad for having changed into her medium armour for the trip. Packing things away, she looked up with a smile as Triton returned, holding a suitable stick, short tail wagging furiously.

He had blood on his pelt. 

She stiffened, then examined him. Not his own blood, and she handed him a mabari crunch. “What’d you kill, boy?” The dog barked, producing a number of small scales. 

Dragonlings. 

Ugh. Olivia took the crutch, slicing off twig and leaf, then got onto her feet, supporting her weight. Took a cautious step, then sighed in relief. Triton helpfully took her pack, and she strapped it onto him, before the two managed to plod their way out of the cave.

-

Honestly, they were closer to Highever land than anything, and that meant Olivia could get there, get to Fergus, and get healing, then hightail back home on a horse. But that meant dealing with Alistair, dealing with Leliana, dealing with being queen. Being a lonely Warden and a dog sounded so much better. But wasn’t she queen? Wasn’t she entitled to do what she wanted?

No. Duty first. Responsibility over self. Olivia wished, not for the first time, that she had been born a commoner, to get rid of the entitled sense of having to be self-sacrificing, which made her feel awfully hypocritical. 

For all her bluster, Olivia was still just a woman, and right now, she was an injured, drained woman. 

Just find a nice farmstead, and pay to spend the night in the barn. Just do that.

It was many hours of pained limping before she finally found a house, though it was abandoned. For that, she was grateful, as she got into a musty bed, collapsing into a deep sleep. Her exhaustion had negated her usual caution, as to why the house might have been abandoned, why it was so musty. She was lucky, the next morning, when nothing had happened. 

She was also incredibly lucky that of all the coincidences to occur, the one that did happen, happened. Let it be known that in the case of Warden Olivia Cousland-Theirin, if something odd happened, it happened with great reason, and was never ‘coincidence’.

It was for that reason, she wasn’t as surprised as she should have been, seeing a certain someone above her. “…Rory?” 

-

“…and furthermore, I’d like to have a royal cheese tasting.” “What?” Teagan looked up from making his notes as Alistair trumped about the room, looking a little distracted. “Yes, cheese tasting, and invite…invite Oghren. And Zevran. And Wynne. We’ll all have a lovely time, there can be a fondue-“ “Alistair, what on earth are you talking about?” “Cheese tasting, Teagan, keep up, it’ll be lovely-“ “Alistair.” Alistair stopped, then sighed, looking down. He wasn’t fooling anyone. “Alistair, what’s wrong?” The tall king chuckled nervously, suddenly very interested in a tapestry. “I’m sorry I love cheese so much?” “Alistair?” 

Alistair sighed. “It must be nice, with Caitlyn, hm? Twins, huh?” Teagan blinked at Alistair before putting his papers down, and stood next to him, noting Alistair was examining the Guerrin family tree. Alistair gently ran a finger down the embroidery. “I always thought family wasn’t meant for me. Something I wanted, but I could never have. For a moment, I thought with Olivia, I could, but…I guess family just isn’t meant for me, huh?” Teagan gently rested a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Alistair.” “Do you love Caitlyn?” Teagan swallowed before nodding slowly. “I do.” He paused, then probed, gently. “Do you…love Olivia?”

Alistair looked down, closing his eyes. Teagan stepped away, clearing his throat. “So, a cheese platter party-“

A messenger rushed through the door, gasping for air. “My king-“ “How dare you interrupt the king in his private quarters without formal invite-“ “Leave him speak, Teagan.” Stoic now, Alistair turned to regard the messenger, who sunk into a hasty bow, holding up a furled note. “From Amaranthine, my king. The Seneschal sends his regards.” The messenger was dismissed, and he hurried out while Alistair unfurled the note, his eyes furrowing before he tossed it at Teagan, storming over to the railing, gripping at it.  
Teagan raised a brow, before reading it to himself quietly. “To King Alistair….accolades, blah blah…regards…formalities…polite- ‘I find the deepest regrets in announcing that the Warden Commander has been reported missing’.” Teagan didn’t need to read anymore as he turned to look at Alistair.

Alistair scowled down at the garden he had been looking at with his frustratingly stubborn and proud wife what had been months ago, but felt like the night prior. “Ready the court. And get the scribe. I have some letters to write.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, 'Rory' is not cannon, yes, he is 'assumed' dead.
> 
> But this is my story so, authors lib! *throws flowers*
> 
> And, yes, Rory as in Ser 'Roland' (fan name) Gilmore. Yes, from Nexus mods.
> 
> No, I don't use that mod, just seen some youtube on it.
> 
> Well written, but I'm none too fond of the voice actor, sorry! ^^


	5. Chapter 5

The bed was warm, and cosy and Triton was barking, running in happy circles around Rory as the red-head crouched down before the fire at the hearth, blowing gently into the embers. Olivia rubbed her eyes as she slowly sat up. “How long was I asleep?” “Couple hours. Taped up your foot. Should be good to go in a few days.” Olivia yawned, and pushed back her messy curls, then smiled sleepily as Ser Gilmore brought over a small bowl of broth, which she sipped from, still processing what was going on. “You’re…alive.” “That I am. And you’re the queen. Congratulations. Sorry I don’t have porcelain and silver forks.” Olivia laughed weakly, and he smiled before the smile drooped as he crouched next to the fire, warming his hands. Olivia tugged the blankets around herself. “What…happened?” “It’s a very long story.” “We have time.”

He sighed, then nodded, sitting on his haunches before the fire, putting in a few more logs, trying to air the must from the room. “Highever was going to fall. We sent you and your mother to the kitchens, Duncan soon followed. Howe got in. He stabbed me, and I fell. Hit something vital, I was bleeding out. I fainted. Didn’t think I’d wake up again, but I did. Some healer came to the castle, offering help to wounded. Nice guy. He had me and a few of the others on medicine and salves for a month, using up his stock. I’m the only one who made it.”

He rubbed his hands together. “I knew you had been at Ostagar, and Fergus had been headed there too. I went to Lothering, trying to meet up, but news came about the Circle by then. I was too weak to help you. Too slow. Nothing but bad memories.” Olivia frowned, shaking her head, but remained quiet. “I wanted to do something, so when people started fleeing from Lothering with the darkspawn, I joined a bunch of farmers who had passed from South Reach, and a couple apostates as we headed to Gwaren, and I got them onto Kirkwall. Gwaren was safe, for a while. I stayed there. And then…”

He shook his head as Olivia coughed wetly, realizing the sludge and wilderness had done a time to her typically impeccable Warden constitution. Curses to being pampered in palaces and becoming complacent. He smiled, handing more broth, and she swallowed. “I found ruins. In my journey. Gwaren is very old, very powerful. Without Loghain at main stead there, people ran amuck, and raided. I was able to get into some of the parties when I needed coin, and the group found…things. Under ground. Deep Road passages, clear of the spawn, but…filled with other things. Dwarves as ghosts, odd magic, we thought the two didn’t- shouldn’t mix. Confusing, to say the least. It…changed perspectives on a lot of things. My queen, you need to see it.”

Olivia blinked at the torrent of information, and frowned, sipping more broth. “Why are you here? Why not with Fergus? Or why not still in Gwaren?” “Olivia, the veil has been torn there. They’re corrupting people, like at Blackmarsh. They’re shaping the Fade into-“ “Roland, you’re talking like a mage. And how do you know about Blackmarsh?” Olivia was frowning now, her free hand pawing for a weapon as discreetly as she could manage. Roland looked away. “The healer, who helped me. He…came with me to Gwaren. He’s an apostate. He…says he knows you.” Olivia tried to process this. It wasn’t Anders, who had been at her side in Blackmarsh, snarky comments and all. Anders was under Templar control when the Blight started. She shook her head. “Who?” “You’ve never met. But…he’s hidden from the templars because he hides in plain sight.” “The Chantry? Stop dodging the subject- who!?” 

It clicked.

She stared. “…Wynne’s son survived? He has magic? How does he know of me?”

“In Gwaren. There is magic there, housed in lyrium. They can hold memories. They can change the past. The future. The present. They might…might be able to shift the Calling.”  
A cold trail spread down Olivia’s spine as she looked at Roland, then sat back, trembling. Remove the Calling. Have Alistair’s child. Cure Alistair. Have Leliana. Save how many people.

She swallowed. “Where is he?” “In Gwaren. He…saw you would be here. He saw how I would help you, how you would trust me. He knew you would take the opportunity to remove the Blight curse. To cure yourself, but remain immune. To save your King. You need to come with me, my queen. You need to help me. He’s in danger. I need him.”

Olivia looked pressingly into Roland’s eyes, seeing the grim desperation in them- he’d go back, with or without her. He loved this man. “I…I’ll need to bring Wynne, and a team. People I can trust not to tell Alistair…or Leliana.” Roland nodded slowly. “Who?” “…Wynne. Nathaniel. Velanna.” Roland nodded again. “Do you know where to find them?” Olivia nodded in return. “Yes. As soon as my foot heals, we shall go. Let’s just make sure to supply up. I’ll send Triton with you, and my money. Please…get me a disguise. I am not your queen for this trip. I am just…another Grey Warden.”

And with that, Olivia picked up Ser Gilmore’s hunting knife from the floor, slicing her long curls, and they fell into an unruly bob at her chin, curls wild and tangled. Roland watched her before smiling slightly, nodding his head. “Of course…Olivia.”

 

-

 

Alistair stood in his chamber, staring at the bed he and Olivia used to share. It was big. Very big. Very, very big. What some might consider a display of wealth and luxury, or how much more fun it was to have more space to roll around in, it just made him feel lonely. Not for just how empty it was without her, but how empty it was with her. She always slept as close to the edge as she could, resolute in her decision to keep Alistair on his own side, and touching her was forbidden, unless they were ‘having intercourse’. Then- no kissing, no tasting, heck, avoid eye contact. For all their best friends relationship, in the bedroom she grew terrified. It made him curious, made him wonder what had happened to her, but questions were met with steely glares, and the night he took her virginity, she had sobbed into her pillow for the rest of the evening.

It hadn’t done wonders for his ego.

Seeing the woman he loved, that weak and in such pain, due to him, her being afraid of him, it…it broke a man. And she was just as caustic and snide as ever the next morning.  
Alistair continued looking at the bed, before sitting on her side, gently touching the pillow. A part of him wished the linen hadn’t been changed, so he could still smell her scent- faint spice that she asked Zevran to send to her. Warm and thick, but not cloying. He could taste it in the back of his throat, and he dry swallowed as his eyes followed over to her drawer. He looked about, cautiously, then opened it, seeing a dagger, set with a lightning rune, then a number of letters, bound in twine. A pressed flower that reminded him of Leliana. 

Next drawer, a box filled with odd bits and bobs- hat pins, small earrings, jewellery, things he got for her that she never wore. All neatly placed inside. A hair brush. He slowly picked it up. It was simple, rough, the same brush she had used on the road, though she probably had a fancy, soft one on her dresser. He touched the harsh horse-hair bristles, and all he smelled was her.

His shoulders shook in a soundless sob as he hugged the brush to his chest, wishing she was there to fill his arms instead.


	6. Chapter 6

“The tower won’t hold, ma’am.” “Hm?” Leliana looked up from her scrolls, rapidly wiping her eyes, only to see that pretty elfin girl again. An elf, who pretended to be a scout, but was really a Qunari agent, here to scope out what was happening in Haven, being able to blend in. Of course, Tallis didn’t know Leliana knew that. Tallis didn’t know many things.  
Leliana had her ways. 

The red head stood, putting her scroll down, brushing her fingers over her lute before smiling at the girl. “It’s lovely to see you, Tallis, you look darling. So, the tower won’t hold?”

“Thank you, and no, it won’t. Corporal Harven believes we should evacuate the main premises as soon as possible.”

A ruse. Something else was happening, and the tower would be destroyed in the crossfire. A tower that had a great deal of information on Orlais.

What now? Leliana pondered for a moment before she smiled. “When did Corporal Harven tell you this?” “Just now, ma’am.”

A lie. He was in the stables with one of the servant girls, had been for the last hour, would be for another ten or so minutes.

“Oh? I see. Do you know where he is? I’d like for him to explain the evacuation plan- we need to get as much information out as possible, yes?”

“Of course. I think he said he went down to the scouting regiments.”

The regiments were a half-hour walk down the hill. What could this woman do in the hour and a half it would take to get down there, question, realize she had been duped and hurry back up?

Leliana smiled. “Thank you Tallis. Would you care to join me on our trip down? I do so enjoy your company.”

Tallis answered fluidly, practiced. “I apologize ma’am, but I was asked to help with the horses.”

“Oh? By who? Surely it wouldn’t be that much of an issue if I asked them nicely.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all!”

Leliana beamed before cheerfully walking ahead of Tallis, making as if to scratch her arm, though, really, she was adjusting the stiletto in her sleeve, making sure it was in grip.

She heard Tallis exhale.

They turned at the same time; Tallis aiming a knife, just as Leliana threw the stiletto, pinning the elfs’ hair into the wall, and grabbed another, pressing it against her throat. Tallis swallowed.

“You need to work on your skill, my dear qunari.”

Tallis’ eyes narrowed, and she spat something out in their guttural language before turning her head. Leliana eased the knife closer to her wind pipe. “You can either tell me what is going on, or I’ll find out the hard way.”

Tallis sighed, pushing Leliana off, then nodded. “It’s…a long story.”

Leliana smiled slightly. “I have time.”

“A weapon is being devised to be used against Orlais. It is with many technicalities, but it has infighting and a plot to overthrow the Empress. A Lord Gaspard is in on it, and the qunari are ready to begin proceedings, in an attempt to take over Ferelden and Orlais. They intend to double cross him, but I’m afraid some qunari will double cross their own.” 

“Qunari having their own opinions? My, how things have changed.”

Tallis frowned, and Leliana stepped back, pulling the stiletto from her hair. “What has this to do with Haven?”

“We’re keeping tabs on anything here used to incite more anger between Ferelden and Orlais. Anything to do with Andraste’s origins, or plans concerning the monarchy are of utmost importance.”

“You are aware I have straight access to the crown and empresses seat with this information?”

Tallis smiled, and Leliana’s eyes widened as she realized she had been caught as she felt warm breath at her neck, then a long, thin dagger, and a thick accent. “Oh, my lovely Leliana, that’s why we needed you.” 

“Marjolaine.”

-

Convincing people had been easy in some cases, trickier in others. Nathaniel had been ready to go the second ‘Gwaren’ was mentioned, because he missed traveling, and he missed big cities. Velanna had decided, since they were travelling through the Brecilian, she could spread word of her clan, and protection, along with information concerning the Eluvian, which Olivia had passed onto her.

Wynne, however, had been a different matter, but they had finally convinced her by saying there might be information to help Shale, Triton would tag along, and so would Ser-Pounce-a-lot.

Argument settled, the team made their long, frustrating way towards Gwaren, complete with hiding from Templars, because Wynne wasn’t on a ‘certified’ trip, and Velanna was good at attracting attention by yelling about how Templars were crushing mages (and yelling in general about how humans sucked) and Nathaniel brooded a lot, and Gilmore stared into the fire most nights, downcast.

It took them a month and a half to get everyone together, and down to Gwaren, by foot, avoiding main roads (and that meant staying off the imperial highway, and tracking through the wilds was terrible, even with Velanna and Nathaniel to help.)

 

Olivia ignored the inkling in the back of her head that told her Alistair would be furious, and Leliana would be concerned. She had done what had been expected of her, and now she was doing what needed to be done to save her husband, and provide for future generations of Grey Wardens, and fulfilling a debt to her child hood best friend, and a woman who had been a mother to her. That’s what she told herself.

She wasn’t that convincing though.

 

-

A fist slammed down on the table as Alistair let out a loud growl. “You will get notes from this the knight-commander-“ “Knight-commander-substitute-“ “-substitute about where they went, and what happened, and about this Dalish woman who went with the queen to North Amaranthine! You will search the area, you will track any trails, I don’t care how cold, the queen could very well be kidnapped!” “Sire, if I may interject?”

Alistair exhaled slowly, then nodded, calming himself, as Varel spoke. “The Warden Commander is not only queen, but hero of Ferelden. I do believe that anyone who would kidnapped her would have revealed themselves in some form or another, because she is worth more alive than dead. She could be held for ransom. We…might have to consider that she has either been taken to the Fade, or…if not…”

Alistair narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“That she might have left voluntarily.”

“I refuse to believe that. Olivia has a duty to the throne and to her people. She would never abandon them.”

“If she believed what she was doing was part of that duty, sire?”

Alistair threw a murderous look at Varel, who was then ushered out by Teagan, and Alistair sighed, slouching into a chair. “Alistair, I know it pains you to hear this, but we must consider his logic. This man, Varel, is the closest thing we have to a confidante to the queen, considering how the rest of her party seems to have…disappeared.”

“That can’t be coincidence.”

“Well, Oghren is serving under your order again. Anders has vanished, Nathaniel is apparently off to the Free Marches, Wynne has vanished, and Velanna is apparently with the Dalish. Sigrun has gone to Orzammar.”

Alistair frowned. Everyone had scattered. It wasn’t coincidence, no.

He stood, then stared out the window, eyes tracing the rough sky-line of Denerim. What on earth was Olivia doing?

“Send a message to Haven. We need to ask Leliana whether she’s met with the queen, or has any news of her.”

“Yes, sire.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for late update. Exams suck. Posting should resume as normal within a few hours.

It was freezing. 

Gwaren was on the South East lower reach, past the Brecilian passage, and it had a good stopper of typical sleet and hail thanks to the foliage bank, but it didn’t stop the rain. The constant drip buggered minds and made the group of tense people (who were typically easy to aggravate in Velanna’s case) even more irritable. 

While, according to Nathaniel, they were a days journey by horse (or three by foot) from Gwaren, pace had stayed to a sluggish crawl due to weather and terrain. 

It hadn’t been pleasant.

 

“Stupid shems, if they’re going to uproot trees that have seen many centuries more than they could ever hope to see, you’d think they’d at least build decent roads!” “Velanna, these are foot paths, carved by hunters following prey. Trackers, trappers, skinners, the like.” “…Well, they obviously aren’t very good then, considering how we haven’t crossed any animals.” “Probably because they can hear you from a league away.”

Olivia ignored Velanna and Nathaniel’s bickering, wishing for Sigrun to tide them over, but knew she had left for the Deep Roads, to assist Bhelen with reforming the Legion. She absently rubs her thumb over a chink in her armour, then continues walking, staring somewhat blearily ahead, at the water-struck horizon. The sun was setting, and the rain held no sign of letting up, and there was no proper shelter. 

 

Olivia groaned softly, stopping, turning to look around, then stumbled slightly as Wynne walked into her, followed by Triton, and they all sighed, before Wynne turned to the squabbling duo. “Now you two, you will kiss and make up, or both keep quiet for the rest of the trip. We all know you fancy each other, and there is no need to keep denying it, you should have seen what Olivia and Leliana used to get up to back in camp. My poor, poor ears.” Olivia scowled at Wynne, blushing furiously as Rory snickered before looking about again, then led them to a small clearing. “This is our best bet. Wynne, Velanna, I don’t suppose you can make some sort of cover?” “Of course, dear.”

Wynne and Velanna raised their arms simultaneously, bringing rocks together and binding them into a neatly constructed cave, water running away, and a fire springing up in a small hole in the centre of the rock. Everyone climbed inside, and soon Nathaniel was roasting a rabbit he had chanced upon a few hours prior, while Velanna scavenged nearby for fruits and roots, and Wynne started mixing poultices. Olivia sat down at the fire, taking off her shoes, and warming her feet as she started drying her damp socks.   
Rory sat at the fire, polishing his sword. 

Wynne looked up from her salve to him, then back down again. “…what is his name?”

“Hm?” “My…son. His name?” “Oh. …Kael.” Wynne nodded slowly, then closed the tub of salve. “What is he like?” Rory was silent for a long moment before looking up at the rock fissure. “He’s very kind. Very smart. Proud. Stubborn. But very giving.” Wynne rubbed her hands together, holding them at the fire. “You…love him?” “I do.” “Does he love you?” “I think so. He’s said so.” 

Olivia leaned back on her bedroll, listening to the two talk as she absently turned her wedding ring on her finger, twisting it back and forth, Triton lying next to her, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

She looked at her ring. It was a simple thing, silverite, with the Theirin insignia. 

She remembered Alistair giving it to her, business-like, getting down on his knee in court for all the folk to see, how she had avoided eye-contact as he slipped it onto her finger. How his eyes had searched for hers, the hurt that had crossed his features when she turned away afterwards.

Olivia stared at the ceiling, watching the silver-blue glowing rocks ebb and eddy before slowly shutting her eyes, feeling hot, frustrated tears trailing back into her hair, the fondness in Rory’s voice getting to her.

“..he often works in the orphanage, with some other brothers. He never took his vows though, he’s just been affirmed.” “He has strong faith in the Maker?” “He believes magic is to serve man, but his version of that is being able to heat water for a bath without people screaming.” “He and Anders would get along famously.”

Wynne and Rory continued speaking softly, and Olivia rolled over, wiping her eyes as she hugged her hand to herself, twisting the ring, then closing her eyes, memories coming unbidden.

‘…-via…’ She had winced, turned, keeping her eyes shut, the pain springing between her thighs more due to her refusal to find pleasure rather than biology not adapting. She tried to ignore the tremble in his voice, the catch as his hands turned to stroke her, shaking, hesitant. Her chin turned again. “Just…just do it. Hurry up.” A soft sigh, then she hissed out, her nails digging into her fists, and she bit her tongue.

She had tried not to care about how much she hurt him.

Now, that was all she could think about.

 

-

“Pooh, consort to the queen of Ferelden herself, and you cavort around with the army as some sort of Divine envoy? Ah, my lovely Leliana, how low you have sunk. The hair, that I understood, traveling with the Warden? Less, yes, but I understood. Yet here you are, brazen as an Antivan whore, plying a trade with…with such…ah! No, Leliana, I’ve taught you better.”

A scowl crossed Leliana’s features before she spat a glob of blood onto the floor, shifting her chin to her shoulder in an attempt to wipe any excess. She wasn’t successful. 

“What do you want with me, Marjolaine? Hurting me will not make the queen rescue me any further, nor make a ransom come any more quickly.” “No, no, it’s for my own pride. And we need to make sure you won’t get any funny ideas about escaping again, hm?” “I escaped last time, when you had me raped.” “Ah, so crass, my Leliana, so crass.” 

Tallis watched from the shadows of the room, narrowing her eyes as she crossed her arms, her gaze lingering on the strung red-head, blood dripping from her mouth, her chin, and criss-crossed along her arms, chest and stomach. She sighed, turning her gaze to the chirruping Orlesian woman, hands all too eagerly dancing across the veritable mountain of torture instruments before her. “We didn’t agree to torture.” “Tallis, darling, my dear, dear qunari, why would this turn your stomach?” “Our methods don’t involve physical abuse.” “O-hoh, but we do not wish to change her spark, do we? Finish up with her, then come to bed, love, I’m going to wash.”

Marjolaine walked past Tallis, hips swaying as she brushed against her, lips grazing her ear before she left the cold, stone chamber.

Tallis sighed, looking at Leliana, who, in turn, dropped her gaze, tugging at the bonds without much success. She walked over, picking up a wet rag, and wiped the blood from her mouth, then pushed her hair from her face, and Leliana slowly looked up. “Why are you doing this?” “The Qun ordered me to. They need information.” “And Marjolaine?” 

“It’s….complicated.” “Isn’t it always?”

Tallis ignored the line of rhetoric before she gently pushed cotton rags beneath Leliana’s cuffs to stop chafing, and she covered her with a blanket, loosening her holds, so she was able to sit on the floor. “There. Better?”

“Much, thank you Tallis.” Leliana’s eyes searched for the elfin womans. “…please. Help me.”

Tallis swallowed as she looked at the door behind her, then pursed her lips. “I’ll…I’ll see what I can do.”

-

Alistair stared at the empty room for a long moment before he sat down heavily, his head falling back as he closed his eyes. Leliana. Gone. 

He had ushered Teagan and the hastily apologizing captain out, then barred the door, before staring wildly about, then trashing the place, pulling out drawers, emptying cupboards, breaking ink bottles; anything that could hold information, but to no avail.

She had seemingly vanished into thin air. 

The Fade couldn’t be involved…could it?

He opened his eyes again, looking at a portrait of a depiction of Andraste on the wall, and slowly got up, before touching the paint work. Smooth to the touch.

He pushed the painting aside, only to gaze at solid stone.

He turned then, looking over the desk, seeing a journal, covered in ink. He opened it, flicking rapidly through the pages, only seeing generic entries, some comments about visions, some comments about the Divine, and…and that was it.

He tossed it down, but paused as a page fell loose. He picked it up.

‘…Harvestmere 16th. Qunari tracking. Lacking adequate support. Crown long since quiet. She hasn’t been in contact for a month now.’

Alistair looked at the hasty scribbles, ink smearing normally impeccable handwriting. 

Qunari?

He turned to the door once more, unbarring it. “Bring me the captain.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Gwaren, thank the Maker.”

It had been far too long. The trip had taken, in total with the gathering of party, and Olivia’s struggle from the Dragon Wastes to meeting with Roland, two months, meaning, with the excursion tracking Morrigan and heading into the Cadash thaig taking a month and a half…Olivia had been absent from court and public eye for nearing four months.   
The woman was mildly surprised the king didn’t have search parties raiding every hamlet and garrison from here to Highever. 

Again, she thanked her lucky stars that her title was that of figurehead-dom, and not one of visibility- hardly anyone recognized the queen and hero of Ferelden without an announcing retinue. As she was now, ragged, muddy and highly unglamorous, she’d be lucky to be mistaken for a bourgeoisie, let alone royalty. 

Gwaren was an old teyrnir, head of the southern band of arlings and lordings, connecting just before Lothering, which was now being rebuilt, and the city was beautiful, old, and cold stone. 

Built over many ruins, and set twixt expanse of Brecilian forest and the outskirts of the Wilds, Gwaren was well known for its knowledge, history, and air of mystery. However, it was far displaced from the rest of the world, and its main trade came from the large port, which took in many refugees of late, though far more had come in during the beginning of the Blight, most from Lothering, a few from Honnleath, and other surrounding hamlets. 

Olivia sighed as she stepped into the entry plaza, staring at old elvish and dwarven stone fighting for import, but cast over with bright marketing detail, red, yellow and green flying in her face, and she stared about blankly, then shook her head. “It’s so much like Denerim.”

“Ugh, I hate cities. I can’t see a tree anywhere. And look- stone floor, stone walls, stone roofs, nothing. Nothing I want to do here at all-“ “Oh get over yourself Velanna.” Once again, Nathaniel and Velanna started bickering as Rory, Wynne and Olivia surged forward, while Triton snuffed about, eyeing up roast pheasant at a nearby stall.

“Well? Where to?” Rory turned to Olivia, while considering the offending question. “Well…” Olivia sighed, then looked about. “The Chantry, I suppose?” Rory nodded, then shrugged slightly, pursing his lips, and Wynne looked up at the sky before surveying their surroundings. “I don’t suppose we should find a place to stay the night?”

Olivia paused, then nodded. It would be too dangerous out on the streets, here in Gwaren, and she wanted proper sleep tonight. “Well…um, Rory, why don’t you go find him, you know Gwaren better than us, while we get these two-“ She gestured to the arguing duo. “-a place to whinge in peace. Triton will go with you, he’ll help you find us. We’ll try to stay on the main plaza, maybe Nathaniel can stay look out afterwards, or something.”

The plan was agreed upon, and the group split, Rory off with Triton to get Kael, and Wynne and Olivia dragged Velanna and Nathaniel to the nearest inn, booking for the group.

 

Olivia soaked her feet in the last of the hot water, brushing her hair through. She had misplaced her old brush, and was now stuck with a soft, fine brush that took forever to work through her messy curls. While she debated where her old brush was, a knock was heard on her door.

“Yes?” 

“Olivia, it’s me.”

Wynne. Olivia got up, tying back her hair, and drying her feet, then opened up, and sat down at a small table, ruffling her hair. “So…hi. Are you…nervous?” Wynne laughed softly, then nodded slowly, rubbing her forehead. “I’m going to meet my son in an hour or so. He should be twenty four now. His birthday was a month and a half ago.” “…I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.” “I’m not.”

Olivia turned to look at Wynne, blinking.

“Olivia…you know you can talk to me, right?”

“Wynne, I-“

“No, I know. You don’t want to listen to an old woman ramble. But I’ll tell you now, young lady, that no matter how much I’m not fond of seeing Alistair pine over you, it hurts me more to see you pine over both him and Leliana. In your position, with your people, you need to choose. It’s unfair to everyone. And I don’t want you hurt, my girl. Whatever has hurt you in the past, you must know, Alistair would never willingly do.”

Olivia looked down at the soft hair brush, before placing it on the table. 

“…thanks, Wynne.”

 

-

 

“I can’t believe this.”

Alistair paced back and forth, listening to Teagan ramble on into the sheet of paper laced with Leliana’s hand writing, and the pile of notes that had been pulled from Tallis’ quarters. “An imminent qunari invasion right under our noses and Leliana never told us anything? Whose side is she on anyways?”

Alistair sighed, scratching the back of his neck, looking out the window, over Haven, seeing the captain ordering servants about as Tallis’ entire wardrobe was emptied, fake bottoms of wood pried loose, revealing more and more goods. She wasn’t the craftiest. Or whatever happened, with Leliana disappearing- kidnapped?- hadn’t been intentional. At least, not currently. She had been taken by surprise. But who had deigns on Leliana? Some ill-informed Orlesian noble who wanted her as hostage to get to the crown? Or had Tallis taken her? Why on earth would she leave a trail then? What did the qunari want with her? “Sod it all.” “My king!” “Sorry uncle.”

Alistair sat, staring out the window, seeing an elven servant pocket a small pouch of gold when he thought no-one was looking. Alistair’s lips pursed, but he made no comment, and turned to look at the rest of the elves. …well, the proceeds happening in Denerim with the repairing of the Alienage and the training of elves to participate in more strength within the work force hadn’t really hit this part of Thedas yet. 

Then again, Haven held far too much Orlesian influence, thanks to the Temple of Sacred ashes, which was gifted by some Denerim noble who was married to an Orlesian man as a present to the Divine.

Ugh. 

Politics.

“Alistair, these are all tracking marks. Leliana seems to have followed….very particularly. Tallis hid her trail to some extent, but was careless, or Leliana just seemed to know better. …why do you think the qunari wanted her?” “Why do we automatically assume this is qunari related? She could have her own reasons.” “Alistair, let’s use the information we have for now. This…Tallis is a…what’s the word?” “Viddithari.” The Qunari specialist in the corner piped up, while trying to make sense of the broken Qunlat on more of Tallis’ notes. “Yes, that, thank you. They are used to spy, as they blend in, and Tallis, apparently, has much training in weaponry work. Leliana has background notes- assassin training.” “What, do you want to bring the Crows in?” “The Crows tend to announce what is going on if they fail a kill.” “Then that other assassin guild, the Orlesian one…um…” “The House of Repose.” Once again, the Qunari specialist piped up. Alistair nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. You’re just a font of information, aren’t you?” The specialist blushed modestly before he continued translating. Alistair grinned then, standing. “Guess I can help there. I have some contacts if you want to ask questions.”

“Contacts?” Teagan blinked. “Yes. I can contact Zevran about the assassination thing, get some information about Tallis maybe, and he may have links to the House of Repose. Then I may be able to find some way to contact Sten….but he was always closer to Olivia…” The Qunari specialist blinked. “But…my king, apologies, there are many, many Stens.” Alistair blinked, then scratched his head. “He’s from Seheron? Does that help?” The specialist shook his head, and Alistair sighed. “Did Leliana think of Sten at all? Otherwise I need to ask someone to go through Olivia’s things in Denerim to see if she has any way to contact him. But I don’t like the idea of someone going through her things. And we can’t go barging around in Seheron to find a Sten who likes cookies and fought in the fifth blight because there may be an impeding war. …And didn’t he and Shale go somewhere?” Teagan raised an eyebrow. “I thought Shale went with Wynne to Tevinter.” “They did. Then came back. For some…reason. I don’t know.”

Teagan sighed, then stuck his nose back in his papers.

 

-

 

It was…too dark. It was like being locked in Denerim again. Leliana could barely see, for sweat and blood as she stared balefully ahead, trying to make out the little light that shone under the door. She tried to count time. Times the light went on- did that mean it was night? Times the door opened- was it thrice, meaning meals? No. Every time food came, it came oddly. No careful times, a thousand breaths between, then twenty thousand, then ninety. Then a mix, and sleep didn’t come, for fear her eyes would never open again.

Why hadn’t they killed Marjolaine? Why?

Was Olivia too trusting? Too soft? Or did she not want Leliana to look down on her?

Leliana spat out another glob of blood, mixing with spittle, sweat and urine on the floor, an amalgamation of her own dirt. She was ashamed.

That was the purpose, she supposed, when Marjolaine came in, her hair impeccable, her dress lovely, and always talking about how Leliana teamed up with some poacher and her ‘silly elvish mage friend’ to try and get revenge. Leliana would scream then, saying how Tug was killed, how Sketch was broken of mind, how Silas, who helped them, was nowhere to be found. Marjolaine would poo-poo, and comment how her hair was better back then.

And leave, letting Tallis do the cutting, and spoon-feeding. Drip by drip of cold gruel. Drip by drip of elfroot and water into her cuts, stinging, and if she complained, Tallis would sigh, apologize, and rashvine nettle would continue, making her scream.

There had to be a way out. There was no mother Dorothea to save her this time.

…but Tallis…Leliana had seen the way the elf looked at Marjolaine. 

She despised her, but Marjolaine acted as though they were lovers.

Tallis….Tallis could help her.

 

Leliana just needed time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo sorry for delay! Exams- they are horrible. 
> 
> Anyhow, I do make reference to a mixture of things here: House of Repose comes from DAI, Josie's questline. But a lot of these things, I believe, do make up the canon universe that people in the know, would know. So, hence.
> 
> Also, if you don't understand references in Leliana's piece, they are from the DAO dlc Leliana's Song, where you play the betrayal.  
> (Honestly, it's a bad betrayal, but they make it sound so much worse in DAO proper) 
> 
> And, if you didn't know, Tallis is from Mark of the Assassin. You run into Leliana at Chateau Haine with her, so I was like: THIS IS HOW THEY KNOW EACH OTHER. 
> 
> Hence, see above. Haha.


	9. Chapter 9

“They’re cute, aren’t they?”

Olivia blinked at Velanna before looking up from her mug of ale to watch the scene before her. Kael and Rory were laughing, having taken turns dancing with Wynne along to the various blaring music the band was playing in the crowded tavern, bawdy stories being yelled by a minstrel in the corner, and Wynne had never seemed happier. Meeting her son, Kael, with his features eerily like hers, with wide, grey eyes, a warm, gentle smile, sharp chin and messy dark hair had made her burst into tears before hugging him tightly, which he rapidly responded to.

Not long after, he and Rory hugged, Rory burying his face in the taller, but more slender mans shoulder, his own shoulders shaking slightly, and Kael gently rubbed his back, murmuring words no-one could hear. 

Things cleared up soon enough though, and Kael seemed to be the life of the party, always laughing, cracking jokes, with a ready smile, and an open mind. Introducing everyone had been easy enough- Kael knew them, somehow. When Olivia asked how, he got into a rant about something like ‘Tevine Somniari’ and Olivia simply rubbed her temples, and stared at the juggler while Wynne was enraptured.

Olivia had never seen Wynne quite so happy before. Wynne laughed freely, listened intently, and gained a youthfulness Olivia didn’t quite understand. Velanna seemed to though, as she smiled slightly at the trio, Rory apparently telling a story of sorts that had Kael snorting into his hand, and Wynne blinking rapidly.

“I…guess.”

Velanna looked at Olivia, before gently elbowing her, then offering her a small smile. “You have Leliana.”

Do I, Olivia thought. 

She looked down, nodded absently. “I’m going to get more ale.”

 

Olivia stood, heading over to the bar where a portly elder man stood, wiping greasy cups down with a greasier rag. “What can I get you?” “Another dark stout. Pretty good, where do you get it from?” “Rivaini import. We’ve been bumped up on trade recently, getting better stock.” “Why’s that?” “Haven’t you heard?” “What?” “Free Marches have a stop-order on all goods until next Harvestmere.” “…why?” “Where have you been? The qunari occupation in Kirkwall has no-holds-barred on policies within city perimeter. You can’t ship anything in without a headful of legalese from Docking department unless you’re carta.” “Oh. Well, thanks. Another stout?”

Olivia got her drink while pondering the situation. Qunari in Kirkwall? …that meant a distraction for Alistair at least. Olivia sat again, handing over a bladder of elderflower cordial to Velanna before sipping from her stout. “Where’s Nathaniel?” “Think he’s sharpening arrows outside. Some idiot woman is trying to flirt with him.” Olivia raised an eyebrow at the Dalish woman, who grumbled inwardly, irritably sipping from her bladder. Olivia pondered her words for a moment before smiling slightly. “Nathaniel really likes that cordial too.”  
Velanna looked at Olivia in relief for saying something that didn’t put her on the spot for admitting her obvious feelings for the archer, then nodded, getting up, and went to find him, taking the bladder of cordial with her. Olivia smiled absently, tugging at the ring on her finger again, then watched Kael and Rory again. Kael was leaning on Rory’s shoulder as Rory spoke to Wynne, before the two got up, heading off to their room for the night.

Wynne smiled, and got up, then sat next to Olivia again, stretching her legs, rubbing her knees. “Thank you, Olivia.” “No problem.”

Wynne gently grasped Olivia’s free hand before she reached for her ale again. “No…really. I love you, Olivia. I want you to be happy. You’ve given me so much- freedom, peace, faith for tomorrow, faith for mages, and now…faith for the family I never knew I had. And I want you to be there for it. One day, I’ll be able to say that all this pain, all this suffering in the world was worthwhile. Because you, my dear, made it a better place.”

“…Thank you, Wynne.”

Olivia smiled shakily, wiping her eyes, and hugged the older woman, and, for a brief moment, didn’t think about Alistair, or Leliana, or her family, or being a Warden. She simply allowed herself to be loved.

 

-

 

“So…what’s the best course of action here?”

Teagan groaned as he hurriedly sat down at his little desk in Alistair’s study, back in the Denerim palace, while Alistair fiddled about with a number of papers at a side table, documents that depicted the events happening prior to Leliana’s capture/disappearance, and after, as well as concerning Olivia’s disappearance. 

“Well….we have no communication to Seheron at the moment. All qunari envoys have to go through Kirkwall, as of last season, and the viscount is having no upheaval with that for fear of a coup. We can’t go through Starkhaven either, their royalty has recently been murdered, save for their third prince, who is…apparently part of the chantry in Kirkwall.”   
Alistair stared at Teagan, groaned, then slumped into his chair, rubbing his forehead, and sighed, then looked up at the ceiling. It was a rather nice ceiling. Oghren had been all for getting some paintings of women stuck up on the place above his chair, but Wynne had glared him down, and Alistair thought it rather inappropriate to get people to attempt to do pictures of Olivia like…that. And Olivia would be furious. And he would get a crick in his neck staring up at the pictures.

Alistair looked down again, then scratched his head. “So, what? We just wait it out? Should I go to Kirkwall?” “I think Olivia’s absence is more concerning than Leliana’s.” “What if they’re connected?” “How?” Alistair swallowed, considering. What if…they ran away together? …well, then she wouldn’t have made herself queen, would she? They could have left then, and Olivia would have had no responsibilities at all.

Alistair shook his head, pushing papers back and forth. “Nothing.”

A knock on the door, and Alistair looked up. “Enter.”

Caitlyn walked in, her heavily pregnant belly leading her, her walk slightly rolling, her dress slightly tight across her stomach. She looked rather uncomfortable. Teagan jumped up, hurrying to support her back as he helped her to the couch, and got her seated. “I’m fine Teagan, just pregnant.” Teagan smiled weakly at her, gently stroking her chin. 

“Yes….ehem, what seems to be the problem, my dear?” Caitlyn looked between Alistair and Teagan before pursing her lips slightly. “The midwife says I’ll be giving birth within a fortnight.” Teagan bit his lip before slowly turning to Alistair. Alistair blinked at the suddenly cautious mood. “And?”

“Alistair, we’ll need to return to Redcliffe after the children have been born.”

“Oh.”

Well, that was just perfect.

 

-

 

“Darling, we’re moving!” 

Leliana looked up from the two-hundred and ninety-eighth brick in the wall, and sighed, shaking her head as Marjolaine blustered about the jail cell, tightening locks and strapping chains about Leliana before releasing her from the hold.   
If I could just- Leliana took one step. And then it went black.

Leliana woke later, feeling the familiar swaying clopping of a carriage. Tallis sat opposite her, holding the various chains. Marjolaine was no-where to be seen and a small lantern swung from the ceiling, the windows blocked with inky black paint. Tallis frowned slightly as Leliana awoke, but made no comment.  
Leliana noted she was still chained, but had been washed, her wounds bandaged. She looked at Tallis for a long moment, before looking down, her eyes hard and sad. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

Tallis was quiet, pausing, before speaking. “She has access to all my contacts. She knows how to get more. We’re moving to Orlais. The only way I’ll be able to get rid of her without her destroying my plans is to wait for the new contacts, then kill her. So, I’m waiting.” Leliana nodded slowly, then sat up properly. “I…can help you. I know how she works. I can cause distractions or-“ “No. She’s not dumb.” “Neither are we.”

Tallis looked at Leliana for a long moment before slowly nodding, then sighed. “Alright. …alright.”


	10. Chapter 10

“So, in Dwarven culture, entire legacies have been preserved by the Shaperate, held in ‘Memories’ which is a way dwarves are able to process lyrium in a way to hold spoken or written records, as the ‘Stone’ can commune with them.”

Kael was speaking, explaining what he had found, and what was going to happen. Gwaren itself had been built into a thaig. Where once was a large cavern, earthquakes from mining shocks had led to delicate infrastructure, and fool-hardy dwarves had led to the entire cave crashing in on itself, killing most inside. Rubble had been removed, elves had added to the ruins, then had left for the Dales, before the Exalted March got them kicked out, leaving the city empty until the terynir had expanded, claiming it as a capital. It was known for many winding passages with frequent cave ins, and the imprudent explorer often met their untimely end by excavating for Dwarven riches, centuries old.

“The recent quakes in this region have been due to the Darkspawn traveling through the tunnels here during the Blight, but few surfaced- meaning that tunnels have been cleared, but the town guard and templars handled them with minimal casualties. What this means for us is that our best shot getting at the old Memories here- which, as I explained, have been separated from the Orzammar memories- will be through the recently excavated tunnels. I managed to get my hands on a map from an old explorer who didn’t die the first time round, and I…found a way to track the lyrium nodes to our location. Now, before anyone asks, we are looking specifically for these Memories, because, this thaig was once a head operation for Legion of the Dead and Wardens heading off for their Calling. Everyone knows the Legion of the Dead, yes?”

Everyone nodded mutely.

“Good. These Memories have detailed the method of creating the Joining ritual, and, I believe, a reversal method. This may very well be…the origin of the Dwarven Warden. I know the first dwarf warden came from this thaig. Warden Jegek Zydin. He was Carta turned Legion, and prospective Paragon, but then political uprising- and I don’t have time to blab about this. So. We need to prepare for a Deep Roads expedition!”

Everyone groaned collectively, before setting out to buy food for the journey. Olivia sighed, scrubbing at her head as she headed with Triton to the general stall to buy preserved meats. “Don’t you think we should get Sigrun or Oghren for this?” Kael peered up from the map before hurrying after her, his robes fluttering about, making him appear awkwardly flower-like. “It would take too long. And what would they tell us? ‘Oh, here’s some random fact. This room was a bedroom. This passage is a dead end.” “That sounds helpful.” “I can do that too.” “What, you have stone sense? Don’t think your dad was a dwarf, don’t get those in the Circle. And you’re tall.” “It’s the lyrium. It sings.” “…that’s not weird at all. I’m guessing it’s a mage thing?” “No. As far as I understand, it’s a unique gift I have.” “Well, congratulations on being a special snowflake, Kael?” 

Kael laughed as Olivia smiled weakly, taking the pickled fish in a small jar, and the haul of salted meat over her shoulders. “You know, you aren’t that bad for…who you are.” 

“Thanks…I guess.” “Is it hard?” “Being…me?” “Loving two people.” 

Olivia stopped abruptly, and Triton walked into her before whining. She sighed, then frowned at Kael, who shrugged. “It’s as plain on your face to me as your nose is. I don’t think the others see it as well as I do. But they do see conflict. But…they’ve always seen it. Except Wynne and Rory. Does being queen really hurt that much? Can’t you do what you want, as long as you pop out a kid?” Olivia looked down, kicking at a small rock in the dirtied stone beneath her feet. “Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

 

-

 

Alistair sat next to Teagan, both waiting outside the healers room, listening to Caitlyn scream in a mixture of pain and fury. Teagan was pale, head in his hands, shaking his head, at times getting up to pace back and forth, one leg shaking constantly. Alistair simply sat, resting his chin on his hands, wincing every time a particularly loud shriek filled the antechamber, leaving Teagan making harsh sobbing noises under his breath.

The labor only continued.

It was a good six hours since her water broke before Caitlyn had her first, but then only another hour for the second to arrive. A boy and a girl, soon named Matther and Rowan (after her late aunt, Cailan’s mother, and Eamon and Teagans elder sister) and…for Alistair, that was that. A flurry of paper work, worrying about Caitlyn, then, suddenly, Teagan was gone.

It had taken a week, yes, but that was a week of distractions, and a week where nobody paid the king too much heed, and he could follow orders, and it felt normal and comforting. 

Then, he sat on the throne, staring blankly at the empty landsmeet chamber, watching an elf girl polish one of the many imported Orlesian vases with a reverence he only expected in a Chantry.

Leliana was missing and/or kidnapped, Teagan was looking after his new family in Redcliffe, leaving Alistair without a chief adviser, since Eamon had retired to Rainesfere to sleep a lot, and Olivia was gone.

Alistair turned, looking at her empty throne. A random cat from the kitchens slept on the embroidered pillow there, ginger with black and grey patches, one ear crooked. He couldn’t remember whether she liked cats or not.

Did it ever matter? She didn’t care.

Alistair stood, and slowly strode out the hall, up the stairs, heading down to his study, before pausing at the corridor that led to her wing. A female Templar stood guard next to a foot soldier. He nodded briefly, entering her quarters. Where she slept when she wasn’t with him. Which was more often than not. 

He had already cried over that hairbrush, and he had called himself childish for that. It didn’t stop him from stroking over harsh bristles again though, before he sat heavily at her vanity, looking in the mirror, kept dutifully clean. He looked at his reflection, then slumped on the table, staring at the hair brush. 

“Where are you?”

 

“Alistair?” He turned, and saw her walking in, her hair curly, and messy, and ragged, and beautiful, her arms scarred, and bloodied, and muddied, but open and wide, and he all but flung himself into them, hard breaths leaving him as he clung to her, shaking and his hands firm on her armoured back as he held metal and flesh to him, never wanting to let her go again, wanting to tell her that he didn’t care that she may not be able to give him children, wanting to tell her that it was okay that she loved Leliana, wanting to tell her, it was all fine, always fine, as long as…

He opened his eyes, staring back at that hairbrush.

As long as she never left him again.

 

-

 

Another hit in the face.

Another whimper.

And finally, Tallis stopped, an echoing gong sounding somewhere up in the Orlesian manor, saying Marjolaine was welcoming guests. Tallis swallowed dryly before she gently padded elfroot over Leliana’s black eye, and sighed, sitting before her, easing her cuffs, and giving her some water and some soft food.

Leliana looked at her for a moment before looking down again. 

Tallis raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re very beautiful, Tallis. I can see why Marjolaine wants you. But does she really not see what your true motives are?” “I’m good at hiding things from the people I want them hidden from.” “How much longer before we make our move?”

It had been three weeks since the trip. Three weeks of Orlesian dungeons, and distant noises, and Tallis planning, knowing every guest, every soiree, every escape route, every possible way for them to leave. But not without the last piece of information. “I can’t leave just yet. We’re waiting on the first enchanter to visit. She will have information about a chantry mage, who is supposedly secret. Marjolaine wants to weedle this out, because it’s good to know, but the Qun want to know because he has magical capabilities last seen during Tevene rule. They want to use him. I can’t leave until I have it.”

“How long?”

“A few days. Do not worry.  
She will die.”


	11. Chapter 11

“On the First Day, Wintermarch, my love said to me- Hi-diddly-hi- How great can love be?

With a sparrow in the air, my love in a tree, saying- Hi-diddly-hi- How great can love be?

My love spans for oceans, my love spans for seas- Hi-diddly-hi – How great can love be?

With dark’nd day over, not Blight near our tree, singing- Hi-diddly-hi- How great can love be?”

 

Olivia stared blankly at Kael, who stomped ahead of the group, gloomily following the leader through the winding passages of the Gwaren Deep Roads, and Kael….Kael was singing.

 

“On the Second Day, Wintersend, my love said to me- hey-diddly-hey- my love, can you see?

With wallowing wind, and golden oak tree, saying- hey-diddly-hey- my love, can you see?

See the thrush and the reed go floating pass me, oh- hey-diddly-hey- my love, can you see?

With broken not bough, and messengers three, singing- hey-diddly-hey- my love, can you see?”

 

Yes, Velanna was annoyed. As was Nathaniel.

 

“My love, great or small, with sight or none at all, I sing hi-diddly-hi!

Hey-diddly-hey!

Ho-um-diddly-hum!

How great can loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee BEEEEEEE!!!!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!??”

“WOULD YOU SHUT UP!?”

Kael had gone for a high note. Velanna had gone for a high slap.

“IF WE HAVE TO SING ANYTHING, WE WILL SING SOMETHING DALISH, AND DO YOU ALL SOME GOOD-“ “Velanna, no, no-one can pronounce any of that-“ “DON’T YOU DARE CONTRADICT ME NATHANIEL-“

Olivia hurried away from the squabbling trio to Wynne and Rory, Rory who had been humming along in a much more acceptable manner, while Wynne just seemed amused with the current situation. “Oh dear. I can’t remember the last time a deep roads exploration was so…gay?” Rory started laughing awkwardly before coughing into his hand as Wynne gave him a look. “Gay as in cheerful, young Roland, you’d do well to heed.” “Uh, yes ma’am.”

Olivia snorted into her hand before waving at the arguing group, Triton already having sat down, grumbling. “We’ll get no-where with you lot whingeing. We’re either making camp here, or walking.” 

The group eventually continued trampling forward, with a new rule that no-one was allowed to sing, unless they had bardic training. Since Nathaniel wasn’t going to start singing any time soon, that was that. 

The Deep Roads themselves were large and echoing, with, as Kael had put it, delightful acoustics, and a great many tunnels opened into large hollow areas, filled with little eddies where they frequently stopped for respite, the water clean and fresh, confusing Olivia, but not Kael, who seemed to understand the many mysteries of the world- such as why cave water wasn’t dusty. Wynne was proud, Rory was used to it, and Velanna and Nathaniel were too busy behaving like an old married couple to be interested.

It was strangely comforting.

Maybe this is what Alistair meant when it felt nice for someone else to take the lead.

Olivia brushed the thoughts of Alistair from her head, as his name only made her think of Leliana too, and she hurried on further behind Kael, where he stopped every so often to take cuttings of Deep Mushroom, or prod at rock deposits, coming up with fire crystal, drakestone and oddments, happily dumping them all on the packhorse that was Rory.

“Kael, there’s a turn up ahead, according to the map. You know where we’re going?”

Kael paused, then peered at the map Olivia offered, then grew calmer, nodding, and stretched his arms slightly. “Ah. Yes.”

He turned then, addressing the group. “Everyone, we’ll be heading into much less stable territory now. Please watch your step.” “Pardon?” 

Wynne looked confused, and Kael explained. 

The entire foundation they had been walking on was directly fused into solid mountain on all sides. They would not be taking the turn, but rather pushing through a crack that had to be enlarged to get into the proper Thaig ruins themselves. However, the thaig, as normally was, was built in layers, much like a storied building, and this was an upper level, that hadn’t been opened to the surface, as there was one more level above. They would be traveling down from there, which meant they were crossing delicate stone that was growing more and more weighted the further they went, increasing the chances of a cave in with every level. No one looked too excited. Kael only grinned. “Oh come on, it’s like ice-skating too early in season.”

That comforted no-one either.

“This is why we have dwarves.”

An affirmative was given to Nathaniel’s comment.

That affirmative was repeated by a screaming Velanna not an hour later, when Nathaniel went head first through the floor, and the ceiling collapsed on top of the entire group.

 

-

 

Dear Teagan,

How are you? How is Caitlyn? How are the children? I feel rather abandoned-  
Cross, cross, cross out.

Dear Teagan,

How is the family? Is Isolde still mad-  
Cross, cross, cross out.

Dear Teagan,

You do know I have no clue how to do this king thing by myself-  
Cross, cross, cross out.

Alistair crumpled his latest attempt into a ball and tossed it at the picture of Maric on the wall, and resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the painting. Maric. All fair and   
golden and pretty and knowing what to do, but sleeping with his staff and…Alistair sighed, then leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling. Stone and wood. Nothing fancy.

Typical Ferelden, he bet.

Standing slowly, the king walked over to the crumpled letter, picking it up and putting it in the bin with the rest of the half-hearted pleas for help. He couldn’t do this to Teagan. His uncle deserved better- he was with his wife, and with his children, and that was good for him. Regardless of whether it was good for Alistair. He wasn’t supposed to matter right now- but I’m the king! I should be able to- 

He snuffed out the little voice in the back of his head. It wouldn’t do him well to be entitled. He still had people to depend upon. He had been doing this for almost two and a half years by now. He had advisers and- oh. There we go. Just distract yourself for the moment. Focus on something that isn’t Olivia or Leliana- nope, don’t even say their names.  
Just…go…go appoint a new adviser! Someone to help with the regrouping of the alienages, yes? Get it all nicely sorted, Wynne would be so proud of him, being organized and neat….

Wynne… 

A sigh.

She was gone too. He had wanted a proper group meeting to discuss it all- Wynne, Zevran, Oghren, Sten, Shale, but only Zevran and Oghren were coming. Where was she? Everyone was gone. He was alone.

…

Quiet then, before someone cleared their throat and Alistair’s head jerked up from staring at the litter bin to see Ser Cauthrien standing by the door, next to a rather timid looking messenger, who held a small bag in one hand, Cauthrien staring him down with a hand on her sword grip. 

Alistair resisted the urge to laugh. “Stand down, Cauthrien, let the man do his job.” Cauthrien sighed, crossing her arms as the messenger “Eep”-ed and hurriedly handed over three letters and a package to Alistair, bowing, then darted out. 

Cauthrien shook her head with a sigh before bowing. “My liege.” “Thank you, Cauthrien.”

She showed herself out, as Alistair sat back down, opening the letters. 

 

To his most illustrious majesty,  
King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden

Are you feeling tired and….frustrated?  
Do you need a more hands-on treatment?  
Here, at the Pearl-

Okaaaay then, next letter.

Sire-

This notice is a dire one, and I hope to inform you of the drastic changes happening in Kirkwall of late.

As you mentioned in your previous letter, if you do recall, the Starkhaven monarchy has fallen through, and we have no assistance forthcoming from Ostwick or Tantervale, the relatively closest cities to offer aid. While we do appreciate your offer for sending military aid from Highever, I do not want to cause a political incident, and we both could do without a qunari threat. We need to group together in times of trouble, but any and all aid can be seen as a measure to an act of war.

As always, politics remains one with the double edged sword.

Regards,

Viscount Marlowe Dumar, esq. Kirkwall

PS: Recounting on your mention of Lothering refugees, many seem to be trying their best to make names for themselves, notably an Ingrid Hawke, who insists on fraternizing with apostates and riling up our templars. 

Alistair stifled a chuckle quickly before making a more serious expression. Right, well… He’d handle this later. Right now, he needed to assign focus to Denerim- okay, so for the Alienage representative, he’d assigned Valendrian, and he had his second, Shianni. …well, that made sense. Put some more funding in there….

Alistair spent a few minutes trying to find his abacus and started doing small calculations before realizing he had the Privy Purser’s office to handle this for him. A soft sigh. Well, one thing accomplished today. He frowned at the last letter before opening it, and started to read.

To his lordship King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden, 

Ser,

This message may come as a surprise, but, it is I, Bodahn Feddic, and I hear you were at the Circle tower when you were looking for her ladyship, your queen, because Sandal was there, helping along with some enchantments. Boy, he sure does love the stuff.

Anyways, I am currently in Redcliffe at the moment, helping your good uncle with wares and implementations, and I wondered if you would at all be interested in setting up a trade route for dwarven imports through myself. 

Nothing too fancy, nothing too large either, maybe two, three caravans a trip, but I know you have faith in my wares and prices.

I am still indebted to you, my king, so I shall be open to providing advice too, and will pass this rumor on:

Sandal noted that the enchanter Wynne left the circle tower voluntarily, with a motley group, not unlike your original team, as he seems to say. There was a mabari too!   
Otherwise, I hope you would be interested in this trade operation, and Bann Teagan- to be instated Arl of Redcliffe soon, as I hear- is happy to have customs situated through Redcliffe and Lothering, in order to help prosperity, as he says.

Fondest regards,

Bodahn Feddic.

Alistair stared at the letter, his hands shaking before he grabbed his abacus again and started doing the math. Olivia was last seen by Varel leaving the keep in Amaranthine, stating she had received a message to see to the Cadash thaig, then she was seen again at the Circle by this…this substitute commander when she was collecting this mage- who hasn’t been seen since. That was….four months ago. 

He started doing the math. Go up to guesstimated location of Morrigan, as was noted in her last letter to Leliana, found in Leliana’s books, give or take a week, then back down to the circle and…onward. Somewhere. Back to the circle would take around two months. 

Wynne had been gone from the circle for two months and two weeks.

With a motley group, that had a mabari.

And, yes, Olivia had taken Triton with her.

Alistair continued staring at the letter, before he finally allowed himself to see what he hadn’t wanted to.

“She wanted to go.”

 

-

 

“Leliana….my lovely Leliana…please…”

“Spare me the pleasantries.”

Leliana was smiling again, and she was clean, and wearing a lovely pair of shoes as she looked down at Marjolaine, who sat weeping, tied up, naked, Tallis standing on one side, busy getting dressed again. 

Leliana chuckled quietly as she gently dragged the knife along Marjolaines neck.

“No…Leliana….please….”

“Begging already? I thought more of you, Marjolaine. Too proud for this, no? Ah, but this will make it all the sweeter, won’t it? I’m going to enjoy this.”

“No….No!!”

 

-

 

Tallis closed the door behind them as Leliana finished adjusting her hair, then smiled at her reflection. “Well, now we are settled. You have your information, and I have happily offed Marjolaine. So, what now?”

Tallis smiled, and gently jingled the large sack of gold coins. “Shoe shopping?”

Leliana could only laugh. “Finally!”


End file.
